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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29590125">For FoTR LoveFest</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArielSakura/pseuds/ArielSakura'>ArielSakura</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff, FoTR LoveFest 2021, M/M, Mutli-Fic, just drabbles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:01:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,094</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29590125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArielSakura/pseuds/ArielSakura</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets written for the Fairest of the Rare's LoveFest 2021.</p><p>No major trigger warnings apply. Further tags on each chapter/fic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Draco Malfoy/George Weasley, Hermione Granger/Teddy Lupin, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott, Kingsley Shacklebolt &amp; Severus Snape, Luna Lovegood/Pansy Parkinson, Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Love Fest 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Index</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/EozMoon/gifts">EozMoon</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/00Q_Magnus/gifts">00Q_Magnus</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraKwidditch/gifts">KoraKwidditch</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrysKrossZee/gifts">KrysKrossZee</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAMuggleMiss/gifts">NotAMuggleMiss</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophh/gifts">sophh</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraudingManaged/gifts">MaraudingManaged</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zorak23/gifts">Zorak23</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandora_rose_xo/gifts">pandora_rose_xo</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>INDEX</p><p> </p><ol>
<li>Teddy Lupin/Hermione Granger - Can't Be Late</li>
<li>George Weasley/Draco Malfoy - Missing Romania</li>
<li>Theodore Nott/Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini - Wizarding Euphemisms</li>
<li>Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood - Grateful</li>
<li>Luna Lovegood/Pansy Parkinson - Sweet Like Chocolate</li>
<li>George Weasley/Angelina Johnson - One Bright Day</li>
<li>Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott - Dense Heart</li>
<li>Kingsley Shacklebolt &amp; Severus Snape - Arrested</li>
<li>Draco Malfoy/Theodore Nott - Infuriating</li>
<li>Dean Thomas/Hermione Granger - Coming Together</li>
<li>Harry Potter/Rodolphus Lestrange - All It Took Was A Sugar Quill</li>
</ol>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Can't Be Late</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hermione and Teddy are almost late for the movies. &lt;3</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for EozMoon, who asked for Teddy/Hermione and gave me a popcorn prompt! Hope you like what I did with it!! &lt;3 </p><p>755 words.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Come on! We’re going to be late!” Hermione called. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Teddy replied, rolling his eyes good naturedly. He jogged a little to catch up to her, his hand hovering over the box of popcorn, trying to ensure none of the buttery goodness spilled over the multi-coloured carpet of the cinema. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve booked our seats,” he reminded her, “we won’t lose them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but we’ll miss the trailers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy snorted. He should have known Hermione would love the trailers. He snagged her around the waist and drew her to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was hoping we wouldn’t see much of the movie at all, let alone the trailers.” He murmured in her ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushed at him half-heartedly while she laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> why you said you’d take me to the movies? To snog in the back row?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy grinned. “And maybe cop a feel.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed again and swatted his arm lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy’s chest felt warm as he allowed her to tug them into the movie theater. He loved being with her in the muggle world. There was such a lightness to her when they were here. She dropped all of the reserve she held for her position as the Minister of Magic and all of the tension she had about their relationship melted away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When news of their relationship had broken, reactions had been somewhat mixed. There had been a few extremists. A few dozen Howlers. But it had died down after a month or so when people realised Hermione had very little to do with Teddy as he grew up. Her position in the Ministry as the Head of Diplomacy and Creature Liaison’s had her out of London and the country more often than she was in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry had been a tough sell, but he had come around once he had seen just how much they genuinely loved each other. But even with the people they loved most accepting of their relationship, Hermione rarely allowed herself to relax fully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But here and now, she was laughing and carefree. Her hair crinkled wildly around her smiling face, and a sparkle in her eye that told him she didn’t want to be anywhere else but here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They made their way up the stairs to the back of the theater, and Teddy took the opportunity to pinch her bottom causing her to threaten him with a stinging hex. Since she was giggling as she told him off, Teddy was sure she wouldn’t go through with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The seats they had chosen were comfortable as they settled in, and luckily for them, there were hardly any other people in the theater. Teddy assumed it was because the movie they were here to see had been out for months already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had the entire back row to themselves, as well as a good few rows in front of them, so Teddy took the opportunity to put his feet up on the back of the chair in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Teddy!” Hermione hissed. “You shouldn’t do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If someone comes to sit here, I’ll take them down. But are you really gonna make me sit here all cramped up for the entire movie?” He asked, employing his best set of puppy dog eyes―the ones Uncle George had taught him when he was six. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s eyes trailed over him, from his feet, up his long legs and over his chest. She laid a hand on his thigh, suggestively close, but not quite close enough, as she leant in toward him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose not. It would be a shame if you got a cramp after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She squeezed his thigh and lifted her hand. Her fingers trailed across his leg lightly, he could feel them even through his jeans, just enough pressure that they sent a shiver running through him. Just as she reached the crease of his hip, the pressure went away and she snagged a handful of popcorn from the bucket he still held. She leant back in her seat with a smirk and popped a few kernels into her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a wretched tease.” He muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione shook her head. “A tease is someone who won’t deliver. And I do plan on making it worth your while.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy’s eyebrows rose, and his cock twitched hopefully in his trousers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long is this movie again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione shrugged even as her brown eyes danced. “Two and a bit hours. Give or take.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy’s head dropped back against the backrest of his chair and he groaned. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Missing Romania</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Charlie is on break from the Romanian Reserve, things transpire and make him miss it more than ever.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for Q who loves to see characters squirm ;) </p><p>725 words</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Charlie had been on leave from the Romanian Reserve for a couple of weeks over the Christmas break. It was the shortest amount of time he could get off that would also keep his mother off his back about visiting more often for around eight months. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was also long enough that after the first few days he was utterly bored. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was how he found himself agreeing to help out at the shop when Fred forgot that he needed to collect a shipment from one of their suppliers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please Charlie, it won’t be much, you just need to help George restock the shelves from today’s afternoon rush. It’s too much for just one person and I have to get this supply in and under preservation spells or the shipment will go bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t you just restock them later tonight? Or in the morning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fred winced. “I promised Angie I’d take her out tonight, and the mornings are when we go over what we need to with the staff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright. No worries, Fred. Just give me a few minutes and then I’ll be right over.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, big bro. If you can’t find George on the floor, he’ll probably be in the stock room or the lab, he’ll tell you what to do.” Fred said before he disconnected the floo call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie pulled away from the fireplace with a frown. There had been something unnervingly delighted about Fred’s expression. But for the life of him, Charlie couldn’t figure out what it was. Putting it out of his mind for now, he set about finding his shoes and let his mother know where he was going. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck he missed Romania. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flooed to the twins flat and stumbled out the other side. Flooing was just another reason to miss the Reserve, because there they did all their travelling by foot or by broom. And broom was by far Charlie’s most favourite way to travel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shop was mostly dark as Charlie made his way down the stairs to the shop. Which he thought was strange, but perhaps they did it that way so they didn’t attract customers. Which did make sense, so Charlie let it be and let the scant light coming from the partially closed door of the stockroom guide him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a rhythmic sort of thumping coming from the stockroom, and Charlie figured George must be working on something, or maybe unpacking something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed the door open further and stepped inside, making his way around the stacks of merchandise toward the noise. The thumping grew louder and Charlie became aware of a rough grunting noise just as he rounded the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes grew wide and he felt his jaw drop at the sight that greeted him. George was currently pistoning in and out of a bloke who had his legs wrapped around George’s waist and his hands out behind him, supporting himself on the desk they kept back there, chest arching toward the ceiling. George himself had his hands digging firmly into the pale flesh of the man’s arse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie catalogued all of this within a matter of seconds before he clapped his hand over his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, George!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a crashing sound followed by yelping and cursing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charlie! What are you doing here?!” George cried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Boisterous laughter came from behind Charlie and he spun to see Fred doubled up and leaning on a stack of decoy detonator cartons. He looked back to see George’s friend was hiding behind George, and George himself was holding what appeared to be a prototype for an invisibility hat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It kept winking in and out of existence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charlie averted his eyes once more, staring at the ceiling seemed to be the safest bet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fred.” He said calmly, glad that working with dragons gave him iron-clad control of his emotions. “Care to explain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charlie meet Draco. Draco is George’s secret lover. Except―now that you know―it’s not a secret anymore and now they can finally get their heads out their arses and admit they’re in love with one another and I can stop covering for them. Cause it’s exhausting is what it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you, Draco.” Charlie said, deliberately not looking over at him and George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His greeting was met with a sort of strangled mewling sound of embarrassment and Charlie sighed to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck he missed Romania.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Wizarding Euphemisms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry's caught in a bewildering conversation at a party.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for KoraKwidditch who answered my question of "what's the British version of 'cop a feel'?" with the most ridiculous, hilarious answers. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harry didn’t know how he got himself into these sort of situations. He really didn’t. He figured after the war, after defeating Voldemort, that the sort of fate-fucking luck he found himself with would settle and he could have a normal sort of life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should have figured his life would never be anything akin to normal and this conversation he found himself in seemed anything but. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was their returning year to Hogwarts. And the so-dubbed ‘eighth years’ were holding a party in their joint common room. Harry had been doing his best to stray around the edges. Participating peripherally and helping himself to the odd cup of firewhiskey laced punch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which tasted terrible but produced fantastic smoke creatures for whatever reason. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow he found himself leaning against a wall and chatting amicably with Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini and they all seemed to notice at the exact same moment Hermione leading Draco away from the gathering and up the stairs toward their rooms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finally,” Theo said. “The tension between those two has been so thick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tension?” Harry asked. “What tension?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The sexual tension.” Theo elaborated, and Harry coughed on a mouthful of punch. “You could cut it with a knife.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” He asked weakly. Sure that Theo was joking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s true.” Blaise confirmed. “Merlin, I hope she lets him at least bobbie the buttons. He’s been insufferable, constantly whining about does she, doesn’t she.” He sipped some of his punch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s head jerked and he found himself staring wide-eyed at Blaise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe she’ll dibble his bollocks.” Theo mused, “Salazar it’s been a while for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry honestly had no clue what they were talking about, so he just took a swig from his glass instead. Oh, he got the context alright enough. But the lingo confused the hell out of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He choked slightly on his drink, having taken too big a mouthful and Blaise looked at him consideringly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You alright there, Potter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry just nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaise nodded, and just as Harry was taking another sipped asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how long’s it been since </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> fuzzed a fanny?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before now, Harry thought spittakes were a thing of fiction. Of movies and films. Never before had he actually experienced one in real life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he asked weakly, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve and trying to ignore the matching grins Theo and Blaise wore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, tell us. We’re not going to say anything.” Theo said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that we could anyway.” Blaise added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which was true. After the first few weeks of bristling hostilities in the shared tower for the returned eighth years, Susan Bones had come up with an idea. They all scrawled their names on a piece of parchment and it would bind whatever they told one another into a confidence spell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a sort of secret binding spell, one that wouldn’t allow them to say anything to anyone outside the parchment unless it involved breaking the law or physical harm to come to someone. It was based on the kind of pledge healers and lawyers took. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looked down at his glass and swirled the last mouthful around the bottom as he looked for what to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, well… see… fuzzing the er, fanny… isn’t exactly up my alley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Blaise purred. “Are you more about dinging the dong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Harry.” Theo added, his voice suddenly low and velvety as he leant into Harry’s personal space. “Tell us, what would it take for you to join us in </span>
  <em>
    <span>our </span>
  </em>
  <span>bed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s brow furrowed. “Is that another euphemism?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blaise shook his head and slid his hand through Harry’s hair. It tightened at the base of his skull and Harry tipped his head back to look Blaise in the eye properly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It’s an invitation.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Grateful</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Percy wakes in the middle of the night from nightmares. Oliver is there to comfort him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is for KrysKrossZee who requested Percy/Oliver and gave me a prompt of 'Nightmare'. I hope you like what I did with it!! &lt;3 </p><p>854 words</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Percy woke to a firm hand on his shoulder and gasping for breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Percy, Percy luv. Wake up, yer alright. Yer alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy dragged himself upright and felt the body behind him do the same. He took deep, shuddering breaths as the hand moved to rub reassuringly along his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it the nightmare again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still unable to answer, Percy merely nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lips pressed against his shoulder and murmured. “I’ll draw a bath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The solid weight at his back shuffled out of bed and left Percy alone in the room. For which Percy was grateful. He was grateful to Oliver for a lot of things. But knowing when Percy needed a few moments to comport himself was right up there at the top of the list. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few moments, Percy moved to the edge of the bed. Swinging his feet down to the floor he reached blindly for his glasses. He sat there for a few moments, his hands buried in his sweaty hair until heavy footsteps in the hall alerted him to Oliver’s return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oliver’s hands slid down his arms to grasp his elbows and he pulled Percy to his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, luv.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy let himself be led down the hall and into the bathroom. Oliver had lit only a few candles, knowing that Percy wouldn’t want the harsh light intruding on them now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet another reason to be grateful to his lover. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oliver peeled Percy out of his pyjama’s slowly, discarding the sweaty material into the basket in the corner of the room. He helped Percy into the bath and then shucked his own boxers―he slept in far less than Percy did―and he climbed in to settle behind Percy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lay there for a while, just existing in the quiet of the room until Oliver picked up the washcloth from the side of the bath and began running it over Percy’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna talk about it?” he asked, tone even and unassuming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy drew in a shaky breath, he hadn’t ever explained the dream in detail before. “It’s the battle. Fred… he…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He broke off and Oliver hushed him. Assuring him that it was alright and he didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to. But the thing of it was, he did. It had been sitting in him for too long unsaid. The words were itching to spill out of him but Percy had kept them locked up for too long. Afraid of the hurt they might cause to others… and to himself, if he uttered them out loud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s just… he’s staring at me. His eyes… all I can see is his eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oliver didn’t say anything, but he didn’t stop running the washcloth over Percy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I relive it, over and over. In perfect detail and then the dream freezes on his face. On his grin. His last laugh is echoed in every line of his face, but his eyes… they’re wide… and shocked… and what if…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off, the last words heavy on his tongue. Fear coating his mouth with a sudden dry fuzz. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if what, luv?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy swallowed, and then swallowed again. Willing any amount of moisture into his mouth. “What if he hates me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice was small, and it cracked as he spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oliver abandoned the washcloth and wrapped his arms around Percy, squeezing him gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t hate you. He never could―”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy struggled for a moment, trying to sit up. “But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>left</span>
  </em>
  <span> them! I left them and they―”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You came back though,” Oliver said. “When it mattered most, you were there fighting for what was right and you came back. Fred knew that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I got him killed… That stupid joke I made… It distracted him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of that now.” Oliver admonished. “You can’t blame yourself. Fred’s death isn’t your fault. It's the fault of the Death Eater that threw the curse. Fred was in the wrong spot. There was nothing you could do, or did, that would have changed that. There are people alive today because of you. Those kids you saved from Rookwood. Fred would be proud of you for that. And for avenging him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy scrubbed his face and Oliver pulled him back against his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just… I can’t stop seeing him like that. I keep thinking, keep wondering...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Oliver press another kiss to his collarbone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we go see George today? It’s been a while. Maybe he needs you as much as you need him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Percy slumped fully against Oliver, he always knew what Percy needed. Had always been there for him, even when he was being a prat to his family. It was another thing Percy was grateful to him for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lay there in silence for a while longer, the water slowly growing cool and the washcloth sliding around their legs as they shifted minutely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon they got out, and it was as they were draining the water that Percy placed his hand on Oliver’s arm and drew him in close enough that their foreheads were touching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oliver smiled. “Aye, I know.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Sweet Like Chocolate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Pansy is waiting for Draco, only for impatience to win out and she sets off to find him only to find so much more instead.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for NotAMuggleMiss who asked for Pansy/Luna and gave me a chocolate prompt. I hope you enjoyed what I came up with! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Pansy flipped idly through this weeks edition of ‘Witch Weekly’ and sighed gustily. Draco was taking far too long inside Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. He said he was only going to be a moment, he was merely dropping something off to whichever of the matching Weasley’s was his, but that was fifteen minutes ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed again, when there was nothing in the magazine that she didn’t already know and set it down on the hawkers stall. Flipping her hair back from her face, she set off the glaringly bright shop ignoring the hawkers cries for payment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steeling herself for the noise and cacophony that was sure to be inside she made her way in and immediately started to look for Draco’s tell-tale hair. Spotting it in a far corner, she strode purposefully in that direction. People moved out of her oncoming wake rather than be walked over and she made it to her destination quickly only to draw up short.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because it wasn’t Draco she had found. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco wouldn’t be caught dead in a dress, let alone one adorned with yellow daisies and lace ruffles, and which was accompanied by eye-wateringly purple stockings and―Pansy blinked to make sure―bright pink shoes of a muggle variety Pansy knew to be called ‘crocs’. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She also knew that Draco would never do something as menial as handing out free samples. No matter how persuasive his boyfriend may be in bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Lovegood was standing right in front of Pansy with a platter of chocolates. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to try one? They aren’t pranked, Fred and George came up with the idea to make them taste like anything! Here, this one’s hot chocolate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy opened her mouth to decline, but before she could utter a word, Lovegood had placed a chocolate inside her mouth and closed her jaw with a single finger. She looked at Pansy with wide expectant eyes and shocked into compliance, Pansy slowly sucked on the delicacy and was pleasantly surprised when it melted in her mouth and flooded it with a warm taste of elegant, luxurious hot chocolate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, right?” Lovegood asked, and Pansy could only nod because she was quickly off on a long tangent about all the kinds they had made and how they did it and did she want to try another?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy found herself captivated by the way Lovegood spoke and the beautiful cadence of her words and she nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open up.” Lovegood said, pressing another chocolate to Pansy’s lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Complying more easily than she ever had before in her life, Pansy opened her mouth again only to taste chocolate ice-cream, cool and silky as it coated her tongue and flowed down her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thoroughly entranced, Pansy accepted one after another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Decadent chocolate mud-cake with fresh cream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crunchy chocolate chip cookies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delicious chocolate covered strawberries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Light and fluffy chocolate chip pancakes, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thick and creamy chocolate mousse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each morsel was offered from the tips of Lovegood’s fingers and they would brush ever so gently across Pansy’s lips. It seemed like time slowed to swirl around them, encasing them in their own bubble-like world which had narrowed to those chocolates, Lovegood’s musical voice and her dreamy blue eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luna?” A voice called, breaking them from their reverie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy blinked furiously and pulled back from where she had been leaning toward Lovegood, their faces scant inches apart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They tore their gazes away from each other to see Draco and his Weasley standing close by wearing almost identical smirks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luna, as much as I love the fact you’ve given away almost all the samples, I was hoping you would distribute them more evenly and not just hand feed them to the woman you’ve been crushing on for the past year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy cocked an eyebrow and glanced over to see Lovegood blushing prettily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me, Lovegood. Are you being paid for your time or are you simply helping a friend?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m just helping for the afternoon, I had a feeling I needed to be here today―”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent. Come have dinner with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner’s not for hours yet.” The Weasley said, cocking his head to the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy nodded. “Precisely, it will give us plenty of time to get to know one another.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lovegood smiled, and it was beautiful. It lit up her entire face and Pansy wondered how blind she had been before not to see it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be lovely, Pansy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pansy smiled softly. “Luna,” she said quietly as she twined their fingers together. She plucked a box of the samples from the table and they began to walk out of the shop, into the sunlight. Suddenly, Pansy knew just the place for a private picnic. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. One Bright Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>George finds his laughter again. And something more.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for Sophh who wanted George and Angelina and gave me a prompt of laughter. I had something else in mind originally, but when I started writing this came out instead. I hope you like it! &lt;3</p><p>304 words</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first time George laughed after Fred died it was at a giant spit bubble hanging from little Teddy Lupin’s lips and he had promptly clapped his hands over his mouth and ran from the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next time was months later when Ron had tripped over the rug coming out of the floo and it had been so loud and startling that Ron hadn’t even berated George for laughing at his misfortune.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But laughter was something few and far between until one day when Angelina showed up on his doorstep and dragged him out of </span>
  <span>their</span>
  <span> his flat. Laughter that day had been self-deprecating and coarse. But it had been there. And slowly, George started to come back to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Angelina, there was no pressure to feel like he was fine. Because she wasn’t either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had loved Fred too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They each knew how the other felt and so they could just exist together and allow life to wash over them. To allow time to do its thing and smooth the edges of their grief. Some days were harder than others. Some moments were harder than most. But that was what grief was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A rising tide. A falling swell. It ebbed and flowed until the sea’s weren’t so stormy and the sudden squalls lessened. As the ocean of his grief brightened, his laughter returned. Rolling and rich, rising like gulls that lifted themselves on warm thermals filled with joy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was one such bright day that George turned and looked at Angelina with new eyes. The shadows of their shared grief had rescinded far enough that they no longer tainted every moment. That the turbulent open seas had calmed to smooth bays. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was one such bright day that George laughed and knew he could open his heart and love once more.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Dense Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Theo's been a bit dense about things lately.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For MaraudingManaged, my wonderful friend who prompted me Theomione and 'Pub'. I hope you enjoyed these two!! &lt;3 </p><p>605 words</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Theo sat at a corner table in the crowded pub sipping his third butterbeer. He was here like he was every Friday night, and it wasn’t for the drinking―as if there was enough alcohol in butterbeer anyway―it was for the company. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or a woman rather. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One woman in particular who messed with all his sensible faculties and reduced him to a nervous tongue-tied Hufflepuff when they discussed anything other than work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, have you got plans for this weekend?” Hermione asked as slipped into the seat opposite him, having just returned from the bathroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, no. Not as yet. You?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It remains to be seen,” she replied. “I’ve been wanting to go to the new exhibition at the National Gallery for a while now. I just hate to go alone and it’s really not something I can drag Harry or Ron to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo nodded. “Not really their thing, I suppose. It’s a shame to let such opportunities go to waste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione nodded fervently and leant forward, her elbows were on the table which meant her cleavage became more pronounced despite the modest neckline she wore for the office. Theo struggled to keep his eyes up and not ogle her like a heathen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It really is, I’d so love to have someone to go with that appreciates art as much as me. There’s something just so inherently invocative about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo nodded and they spoke for a while about the new exhibition, before they moved onto other topics. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you tried that new restaurant in Hogsmeade yet?” Hermione asked him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo shook his head. “No, not yet. It certainly seems interesting though, the mix of muggle cuisine with wizarding components.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’d love to go. Did you know they’ve apparently got a wine list that spans the world? Bottles from every region.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sounds good in theory though I imagine it would take a while to work your way through them.” He joked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe that’s the point?” Hermione pointed out, “repeat business? Returning customers, couples maybe, recreating their dates and sampling wines and dishes from everywhere? Why you could go once a week for a year and not get bored.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their conversation continued and eventually, they had to call it a night. Theo walked Hermione to the apparation point and they chatted lightly as they went. But when they reached it, Hermione sighed and turned to him, a small frown on her forehead and her lips pursed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, Theo… For weeks now, I’ve tried being subtle, I’ve tried not being subtle. So now I’m going to be direct. Do you have any intention of asking me on a date? If you do or if you don’t, I’d appreciate you telling me before I make a fool of myself or get too invested.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo stared at her gobsmacked. She… date… what?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A long moment passed between them where he was unable to do anything more than stare at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” She said with a decisive little nod. “I’ll see you Monday and we can pretend this never happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She began to turn on the spot, preparing to apparate when Theo grabbed her by the elbow and spun her back toward him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait! I― you’ve been dropping hints? You </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> me to ask you on a date?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione fidgeted with the hem of her beaded bag and Theo swallowed, trying to wait patiently for an answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Are you asking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would ask every day until you tell me no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione smiled at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d really like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo felt a warmth blossom within him, radiating outward until he realised he was smiling―quite dopily―at the woman that had captured his dense heart.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Arrested</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What would happen if Kingsley Shacklebolt was posted to Hogsmeade one night in 1981...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For Zorak23 who asked for Snape, Kingsley and gave me an 'Arrest' prompt! Hope you enjoy!! &lt;3</p><p>305 words</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a horrible, blustery night and Kingsley was feeling very sullen toward his superiors for posting him in Hogsmeade. As if Death Eaters were going to be walking these streets―especially on a night like this one. He recast the regulation disillusionment charm on himself and shifted his position slightly to move the weight on his feet and stop them from going numb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The war effort so far had been gruelling. They had no leads and the attacks were unpredictable at best. They needed a lucky break. Someone from the Inner Circle who they could interrogate and find out information from. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed and cast his gaze to the sky, his eyes tracked a falling star and he remembered an old muggle tradition about making a wish. He closed his eyes for a moment and hoped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later, he snorted. Wishing was useless. Hard work was what would win this war. Hard work and diligence. He returned his gaze to the street and his attention was drawn to a commotion at the Three Broomsticks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone was being thrown out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He landed in the snow and Madame Rosmerta sent a stinging charm at the man. “Next time I catch you listening at doors I’ll call the Aurors! Now be on your way! Mr Snape!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kingsley’s body went taught like a bowstring. Snape? Severus Snape? It couldn’t be! Sirius Black had managed to disrobe several of the Death Eaters on a previous raid and Snape had been one of the lucky ones to be identified. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hurried forward, avoiding the patches of snow so his footprints wouldn’t show and he reached Snape just as he was stood up, brushing clinging snow from his robes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A quick stunner, and then the Aurors binding spell and Severus Snape was magically bound and on his way to Auror Headquarters for questioning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kingsley was praised by his superiors for his quick thinking and reaction time and he went home wondering how many lives he might have saved tonight just by bringing in a young Inner Circle member like Severus Snape. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Infuriating</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Theo is infuriating and there's only one thing Draco can do about it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for Q! My lovely awesome muse!! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It hadn’t been anything serious. At least, that was what Draco had always said, had always pretended. Even when his heart had told him differently. Even when his blood pounded in his ears, demanding he rethink his feelings. When his hands itched to reach out and pull Theo close to him; when Theo invaded his dreams every night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, Draco would get up, sneer at himself in the mirror and tell himself that Malfoys produced heirs, not affairs. So he pretended it meant nothing. That Theo’s kisses meant less than Pansy’s inadequate blowjobs. That Theo’s smile did not compare to Pansy’s hand down the front of his trousers. That Theo’s simple arched eyebrow didn’t mean more than the insipid words Pansy whispered in his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, Draco had seen Theo flirting with Blaise. Ignoring Draco utterly as he appeared to hang on every word that fell from Blaise’s monosyllabic mouth. Draco ignored him in return, shouldering forcibly past Blaise as he made his way out of the Slytherin common room - so what if he took the long way around to the entrance to do so? It meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Theo</span>
  </em>
  <span> meant nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then it had been Flint. Draco had happened upon them outside the Quidditch Pitch to hear Theo asking Flint if he could ride his broom sometime. Draco had reached for his wand, and it was only the knowledge he would find himself in a cell in Azkaban that kept the Cruciatus spell from his lips when Flint had merely smirked in reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the last straw, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolute last straw,</span>
  </em>
  <span> was Potter. Draco had gone to the courtyard to study, as was his wont on a Thursday after a lesson full of incense and Divination induced headaches. Theo had Potter trapped in one of the alcoves and the boorish Gryffidors eyes were wide as Theo lounged suggestively against the wall next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter had licked his lips, swallowed hard, and was about to utter some bumbling idiotic reply when Draco had enough. He stormed over to Theo and gripped his shoulder, spinning him around so that his back pressed against the wall. Draco tangled his hand in the brown curls at the base of Theo’s skull, wedged his knee between Theo’s legs and kissed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reminding Theo as much as himself just </span>
  <em>
    <span>who </span>
  </em>
  <span>he belonged to. He nipped fiercely at Theo’s lips and found himself rewarded with an abject groan loud enough to be heard in Hogsmeade. He pulled back, breath short and hair dangling in his eyes as he stared at Theo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who had the absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>gall</span>
  </em>
  <span> to look pleased with himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can go, Potter,” Theo drawled, “your services are no longer required.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh thank, Merlin,” Potter muttered and then hurriedly scurried off to snog the Weaslette, or get himself in detention, or whatever it was that Potter did for kicks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what you were doing,” Draco finally said, his hold on Theo never wavering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo hummed. “And yet you fell for it anyway. At least this way you won’t have to tell your father. Pansy looks as though she’ll do it for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco glanced over his shoulder, sure enough, Pansy stood there with absolute fury on her face, and he had no doubt she was about to head to the owlery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco turned back to Theo and shrugged, playing off the ire he knew he would receive from his father. “It’s no matter, we both know who really rules the Manor. If Father tries anything, Mother won’t hesitate to use that old Black Magic against him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo’s smile told him he knew that before his words did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s grip on Theo’s hair tightened, “I’m as much a Black as she is,” he warned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo smirked this time, bringing his arms up around Draco’s shoulders, even as he tilted his head back for another kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, you’re much more like your father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco would have protested, but Theo was strong, and his mouth was already on his. As Theo so often reminded him, Nott’s always did whatever it took to get what they wanted - and they never failed. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Coming Together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dean and Hermione come together after the final battle</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For pandora_rose_xo who has been an amazing support this fest!!! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The battle was done. They had won. Hermione almost couldn’t believe that it was finally over. But as she looked up across the battlefield, across the blasted rubble and strewn bodies, her gaze fell on one man and he headed straight for her. </p><p>She broke into a run. She hadn’t seen him since they had rescued him and the others from Malfoy Manor. It seemed so long ago now. Almost like a lifetime but as Dean took Hermione into his arms it felt like no time at all had passed. </p><p>She still fit like the last puzzle piece clicking into place. His arms still felt home and safety. And when he looked her in the eye as he brushed a stray curl behind her ear, she still held her breath like that first time. She waited for him to lean in and his lips brushed so softly against hers as he waited for her to do something. </p><p>Unable to wait any longer. Unwilling to let this back and forth dance continue, she pressed up onto the balls of her feet, wrapped her arms around his neck and she kissed him. </p><p>This moment had been a long time coming, and it was more amazing and exhilarating than she had ever imagined.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. All It Took Was A Sugar Quill</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>All It Took Was A Sugar Quill</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For Q! My rock, my muse, my genius</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harry couldn't believe this was happening. His heart pounded as he was pressed against the wall. As warm lips crashed against his own. As a knee inserted itself between his legs, hoisting him up and providing friction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry mewled into Rodolphus' mouth. His hands tugged urgently at the stupid pureblood robes with too many fastenings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rodolphus hands were busy with Harry's own clothes, ripping his jumper from his body. Casting his glasses askew as he tugged it over Harry's head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their hands were everywhere. Roaming. Touching. Tugging. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry couldn't believe this was finally happening, that Rodolphus’ resolve had finally snapped, and to think, all it had taken was a sugar quill...</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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